


One Step Beyond

by borderlineAbyssetic, Tawny



Category: Death Note, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Shinigami Eyes, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borderlineAbyssetic/pseuds/borderlineAbyssetic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawny/pseuds/Tawny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Beyond Birthday, and how he became the BB we all know (and perhaps, love.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue- We Begin with the End.

**Author's Note:**

> All dates are based on the anime timeline.

"You've really messed up this time, B," L said, staring into a pale figure's ink black eyes from outside the jail cell. The young man looked very similar to L, though he wasn't a carbon copy- he wasn't quite as pale as L, his features weren't as sharp, his face was more boyish in structure. The bags under his eyes were not quite as pronounced, and his hair wasn't as long; subtle differences, and he was obviously five or so years younger.  Third degree burns also littered his body , and had clearly taken out patches of his hair, but the resemblance was there. It was unmistakable.

He didn't reply, just sat there, glaring at the man who had brought him to this place. It had started with him, and had, inevitably, ended with him.

L sighed, turning and getting up to leave. "I'm sorry it had to end like this." He glanced back over his shoulder, but when the young man still didn't reply, he turned back and walked out the door, regret clear on his face.

And in the young man's brain, there was a number stamped over L's head;  _050321._


	2. Photocopy Brand of Justice

"What's this?" L asked, an amused tone in his voice as he stood, looking down at the young boy in front of him. The boy was about ten, his attire consisting of a loose-fitting white shirt and baggy jeans. There were dark smudges under his eyes, as if made using a black makeup powder, and he had fixed his black hair into a messy style.

"I wanted to look like you," the boy said happily, peering at his mentor.

"He's been dressing like this since you left last time," an old man said to L in explanation, a faint trace of humour on his face, accentuating the laugh lines.

L shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief. "Well then…" He hadn't expected this at all. There were few students currently at Wammy House, all orphans that were in training to become L's successor. The first in line was A, but B was also being trained, in case of A's death, and so on, but only A and B were being mentored by L personally. He had never expected one of them to attempt to be this much like him, and a smile crept across his normally expressionless face. "Well then, this will be interesting, won't it, B?"

Beyond nodded and ran over to a table set with two chairs. He sat down in one, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"You're sitting like me too?" L was honestly surprised; not an emotion he easily felt. Beyond nodded proudly, and L mused. "Okay, time to start. Let's say… You've cornered your suspect," L said, jumping into a roleplay, "and he is clever. More clever than anyone you've ever met before. He has left behind no evidence, but you know he is guilty. What do you do?"

B thought for just a second, before replying, "Try to get him to say something only the one guilty of the crime would know?"

L smiled rewardingly. "Yes! But what if he doesn't say anything of use?"

At that, B actually needed to think. "Hm… I don't know… Maybe you could make up some fake evidence and show it to him. Maybe he'll respond with something like 'I never did that!'?"

"Hm. Possibly, but there's a chance that this person has thought that kind of thing through. He knows you'll be trying to get him to say something that would incriminate him. What then?"

"Well… what if you revealed yourself? Like, if you said something like 'I'm L', but-"

"But what if he killed you right there and then?"

"Well… Then you'd be dead," B frowned. Seemingly from out of nowhere he pulled a jar of strawberry jam, and popped off the lid, scooping the jam out with his hands. L smiled; it was endearing, watching Beyond eat his jam, but he really needed to work on being less messy. However, for the moment, he would ignore Beyond's sticky hands.

"Well, the object is to _not_ be dead."

B frowned again, licking the jam off his fingers. "So… what if you put him in a situation where he had to kill someone, or else he'd die? Only, you wouldn't actually kill him. You could have, say, someone put a gun to his head or something. Only it would be a blank. You could make up a real-sounding story depending on the situation, and if he didn't kill the person, he's innocent. If he does, he's guilty."

"But what about the person that would be killed?"

"Well, maybe he could be a criminal? Someone already on death row? And if he didn't die, you'd let him go?"

L smiled. "That's better. Yes, that could work in some situations, maybe ninety... no, eighty-three percent. Let's try another one. Let's say…"

And so the lesson continued. It seemed that the first situation had only been a warm up, and that they got harder as the teachings went on. L never just gave him the answer, only guided or steered B toward it. By the end of it, Beyond's brain hurt, and he had gone through several jars of jam. B had also been careful not to stare at what was above L's head; a number- _11052007,_ and a name- _L Lawliet._ If he ever told anyone that he could see these things, he'd be called crazy. Which he had. Apparently, only he could see these things. He had used to read off the names and numbers of the people he passed on the streets when he was with his parents.

At times, they would laugh and mess up his hair. At others, his father told him to 'Stop it,' that 'It was unnatural!' Occasionally, his mother would talk to him about it, telling him it would 'Go away eventually,' that 'She had seen them, too, before she had him.' But all that was before the accident. Until then, he hadn't known what those numbers were. He had known what the names were, and since both his mother and father had the same numbers, he just figured it was something that ran in the family- One time, he even claimed that a young girl was adopted, because her number didn't match her parents'. He had gotten a pretty nasty talk after that.

But then came the day, when he was still just five, that he had found out. The doctor at the hospital had said something about a train, and that it had been too late. He had been there, when they had died, when the numbers had vanished. He had cried and cried, not paying any attention to anything that happened afterward, except for one detail that he had managed to pick up on. As someone was leading him away from his dead parents, he saw the doctor writing on a piece of paper; _'Date of Death: 05-12-1992'._ He recognized it; the numbers that had been floating above his mother and father's heads.

Since then, he had gotten used to knowing when people were going to die. It became just another part of life, same as eating and sleeping. He had made himself feel no emotion when he saw someone with just a year left, or a month, or a day. Half the time he didn't even care to let the numbers register as dates in his head. Five years later, he was at Wammy's House, which pushed his abilities, yet at the same time, it was incredibly tedious, and mundane to an extent. At any rate, it was tiring.

**. . .**

After his lesson, Beyond ran to go get 'A', who had had her lesson just before his. Knocking on the door to her room, he called out. "Aislinn? Come on out, Ash!"

A girl opened the door. She was about the same age as B, maybe a year younger, with stick straight black hair. She was wearing jeans with the knees worn out from use, and a red hoodie, looking much like Little Red Riding Hood. As Beyond looked into her happy brown eyes, he couldn't help but see the name and date. _Ashley Kehr. 03131998._ He couldn't help but wonder why everyone at Wammy House didn't use their real names, like L did. Or rather, he knew why one might do that- to keep one's identity hidden, which was a good safety precaution in the case of those at Wammy's, but even L himself was on first-name basis with the entire world. Of course, L isn't your average name...

But that wasn't what mattered; what mattered was that Ash only had a year to live.

This one date saddened B while no others did. He hadn't given thought to the dates hanging over anyone else's heads; either they were many years from now or he didn't care enough about that person to think it mattered. But that one date, March 13, 1998, bothered him deeply. He couldn't tell anyone about it, not even Ash herself, or L, or Watari; the owner of the orphanage. So Beyond had vowed that he would be there when it happened. That if possible, he would stop her death. Could he change the dates? By simply being there, could he change the day that Ash met with Death? _Or will I cause it?_ That thought was one that haunted him daily. What if, _what if,_ her death was brought into existence by his own hand?

He mentally brushed that sentiment away. Never could that be the case. It wasn't logical. And if it wasn't logical, it wasn't possible- L had taught him that much.

Perhaps these thoughts were far too aged for someone of just ten years, but B had lived with death around him his entire life. He was decided; he would protect Ash, if it was literally the last thing he did.

Ash's voice interrupted his train of thought. "B? Stop staring like that; it's creepy," she giggled.

B smiled, eyes trained on her lips. They were pretty, dainty, fragile- And at the moment, they were joyous. He slid out of the doorway, allowing room for A to pass. Together they ran down the stairs, racing, to see L one last time before he left again. L's visits were far too short and far too in between, and both Beyond and Ash enjoyed seeing their substitute father figure, as he had become to them. It may have been just another of L's identities, but it was one he enjoyed.

"I should be able to come back next weekend," the detective promised, crouching to Beyond and Ash's level.

"So soon?" Ash's face lit up. L nodded, smiling, and ruffled B's hair.

"You need to grow it out some if you really want to look like me," he joked, though it was true; Beyond's hair wasn't long enough to match L's hairstyle.

And with that, L left, if only for the time being. He had cases to get back to; a job that wouldn't, couldn't, let him rest. Justice never slept.


	3. Say Grace, And She'll Never Shut Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Have a nice day"  
> "Don't tell me what to do"  
> "kay"

"Your book reports are due today," the female teacher at the head of the classroom announced, though everyone already knew. "Who would like to go first?"

G's, or Grace's, hand shot up immediately. "Me! Oh, me Mrs. Ren! Over here! Me!"

After a few seconds of silence, no one else had volunteered, and Mrs. Ren sighed. "Fine, Grace, go ahead."

The girl stood up. She was about eleven; the only other kid in the class that was B's & Ash's age. She had unusual seafoam blue eyes, and long blonde hair that was currently fixed into a bun, with her bangs free.

"I did my report on War and Peace!" she said excitedly, skipping to the front of the classroom. "Well, first off, I'd like to suggest that all others _not_  read this! It's boring!" 

"Grace! Please, just read your book and stop shooing your classmates away from everything you've ever read." Mrs. Ren said, sighing in despair. What she was going to do with this damn child, she didn't know.

"Well, it starts out with this random quote, and it's like 'Well, Prince,-' Oh, I'd  _love_  to marry a prince," she interrupted herself. "'So, Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes.' Oh, yeah, this book has, like, REALLY weird names. 'But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war, if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist- and I really do believe he is the Antichrist- I will have nothing more to do with you, and you are no longer my friend, no longer my faithful slave'- I think we all know what that means," she grinned impishly, "'As you call yourself! But how do you do?' I'm fine, thanks! 'I see I have frightened you- sit down and tell me all the news.

"It was July, eight-teen 'o five-' which, seems like to me, was a very interesting time period! 'And the speaker was the well known Anna-' Oh!  _Ilovethatname!_  If I could change my name, I'd cha-"

"Grace," Mrs. Ren interrupted, speaking slowly, as if carefully choosing her words, "Is your entire report just you reciting War and Peace with your own commentary?" 

"Well… Yeah! Did I get an A?"

"…What's the sixth word on the two-hundred thirty-second page?"

"Received!" Grace said after a few seconds of thought. "Can I have my A now?"

Mrs. Ren shuffled through her copy of the book, which was the same as the one she had loaned to Grace, and came to the two-hundred thirty-second page. She stared at it for a second in silence .

"Can I have an A now?"

"…Sure, fine… But next time I expect an  _actual_  report!" Mrs. Ren said dismissively. She sat down, her hand to her forehead. Of course, she was one of the smartest students here, but you wouldn't think so. Mrs. Ren huffed to herself. "Daniel? Would you like to share your report?" she said, deciding that from now on she'd choose who would go next.

D nodded and walked to the front of the class, giving his report on one of the Sherlock Holmes novels .  Meanwhile, B wasn't paying much attention. He was lost in his own thoughts when Grace flicked a note onto his desk.

"…Hm?" he mumbled, unfolding the note. It was a message, something very simple-  _'Hi! :D'_  

Beyond groaned, knowing if he didn't reply, he'd get a pencil to the arm (on accident of course,) and knowing that if he did, the conversation would carry on forever. He hid the note from sight as he wrote his response, trying to seem cheerful while keeping the conversation as dry as possible; hoping she'd give up, but knowing she wouldn't.  _'Hey! :) How do you memorize stuff like that?' '_ Flicking it back over the aisle, he pretended to be paying attention to D's report, though he could care less; he'd read the book at least ten times.

The reply hit him just above the ear. He cast a slight glare at Grace, and she grinned innocently, mouthing a  _'Sorry.''_  He unfolded the paper, giving it just a glance. He did have a genuine interest in how she could remember entire classics, but her response didn't help at all;  _'Idk, it just happens that way! :D'_  

He sighed again, thankful when Mrs. Ren called him up to do his report on  _The Dark Tower_  series by Stephen King. It was short, and to the point, and he could tell Mrs. Ren approved. He was a bit of a 'teacher's pet', though not by choice. He couldn't help it if the teachers liked him, annoying as it might be.

**. . .**

A month later, Beyond was making his way up the stairs to his room. He was in trouble; teasing the new arrivals. There had been a lot of them lately, and they were quickly advancing among the ranks of the Wammy's House children, even with how young they were. First to come was a young boy, only about three, with red-brown hair and emerald eyes. Next was another boy, a blond, about two years older than the first, and a red headed girl about the same. The two came in together, from Russia or something of the like; Beyond didn't particularly care to remember. Then there was an eight-year-old; tall and  _loud._ The last to come so far was a four-year old ,  most-likely-albino; small for his age and extremely quiet.

B hadn't  _really_  done anything wrong; just a little teasing, just having some fun by poking some fun. Nothing physical. And yet ,  he was grounded to his room. He kicked a step as he made his way up, venting his frustration at Roger's unfair judgment. Sure, it wasn't his first offense recently, but… It's not like he'd pushed them or anything!

The ravenhead trudged toward his room, not bothering to watch where he was going.

Mistake.

He hit the floor with a loud thump, and a swear he was sure he wasn't supposed to know.

Picking himself up off the floor, he looked behind him to see what he had stumbled over. He was surprised to see a pair of odd-looking shoes in the middle of the hallway. They looked brand new, and were mostly tan in color, with a cross-stitch or plaid sort of pattern and an 'S' shape connecting the corners. From the top to the front of the toes on either side were black stripes with a red stripe in between. They had dark brown laces, and a leather strap stretched from the front of the shoe around the back to circle the ankle- Personally, Beyond thought them ugly. He picked the pair up, turning one shoe around to see the back. On the black heel of the shoes was a word in cursive red;  _Gucci._

"Goosey? Guki? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh… My… God…" came a high-pitched voice from up the hall.

"Huh?" Beyond looked up, seeing Grace run over and stop in front of him, an excited but almost panicked look on her face.

"Are those… Are those… Gucci?"

"Um… I guess…" Beyond responded, more than lost.

"Can I… Can I touch them?"

"…Sure…"

Grace tentatively stretched out her hand, daring herself to just touch the shoe. When at last she did, he could swear she almost fainted.

Beyond didn't get why it was so amazing. It. was. a shoe. Nothing more. Right?

"Can I… H-hold them?" she asked, and Beyond rolled his eyes, holding the shoe out.

"Knock yourself ou-"

"This is my shoe."

"...Okay? Glad you foun-"

"Someone stole my shoe."

The girl didn't sound as angry as Beyond would've been if someone touched  _his_ stuff, but then, Beyond was... Well, he was Beyond Birthday. But still, Grace didn't seem... Bothered. And that actually unnerved Beyond, but not as much as it amused him. 

Grace simply rasied an eyebrow, and after a second, she sighed, grabbing the shoes and running towards her room. Beyond followed more slowly, sneaking a peek into the girl's room.

They were everywhere.

Well, maybe not everywhere, but there were a lot for someone as fashiononically simple-minded as Beyond, no matter how many words he had to make up to justify this. Grace actually had maybe seven pairs of shoes, but that was way more than Beyond had ever seen at any one point in his life.

**. . . **

After class one day, and a seemingly endless and certainly half-hearted argument with Grace over which was better, Coke or Pepsi (obviously Coke,) B rushed away as fast as possible. He liked Grace, he really did, but sometimes… Sometimes Grace was Grace, and Grace was talkative. Very. Didn't even matter what she was talking about, she could carry on as long as you allowed her to. Maybe even then some- But there was one way to stop her. She couldn't talk without her hands. If you tied her hands behind her back, she wouldn't be able to speak a word. He smiled for a second, musing at the thought, before he shot off down the halls, ducking around and under other kids; racing toward A's English class. It was the only class they didn't have together, and it was at the end of the day.

"Hey Ash!" he grinned, as always, trying to ignore the ominous date literally hanging above her head.

"Hey Bee-Bee!" she called out, using her new-found nickname for the boy, and the two raven-heads ran off together to re-find Grace and a few others their age for a game of football. 


	4. It Begins With a Plan

It was months later, and Beyond was glaring boredly out the window, busy not-listening to L's lecture.

"B, you can't just break Near's robots like that. He's just a little kid; he didn't know he was interrupting your studies."

_Studies my ass…I was looking for something fun to do,_  thought Beyond, though he didn't say so aloud. He had been bored as of late; life at Wammy's was utterly without excitement, just the same thing over and over; study and learn, solve completely unchallenging "puzzles" and made-up cases. It was boring, and the ten year old boy was restless. He had thought many times about running away, but one thing kept him here; his worry for Ash. Only five months until her death date, and he still wanted to be there to protect her then. He had asked her to run away with him, but she had refused, stating that she liked it here.  _I don't know how she, or anyone else here, can stand this, let alone_ like _it…_  How could everyone else seem so content with this life, always stuck on repeat? _Like a broken record like a broken record like a broken record..._ It was pointless.

Looking up at his mentor, he was suddenly through with hearing his voice. He got up while L was still mid-sentence, and left the room, heading up the stairs to his room, which he now shared with a terribly annoying boy and his wide collection of robots, Lego's, dice, and other toys.

The boy was sitting there, making  _whoosh_ ing sounds and pretending to make a robot fly. Beyond rolled his eyes and sat on his bed, pulling the knife he had hid under it out and admiring its sharpness, running it over his palm lightly. He didn't notice it was actually cutting until red droplets began to form along a line on his palm. He had been examining the liquid for several seconds when there was a loud rapping on the door. He looked up and hurriedly hid the knife under his pillow, wiping the blood off of his hand as Near went for the door.

"Get outta the way, stupid," came a voice from the doorway. It was a hostile gesture, but not a hateful one. Near rolled his eyes but backed off, going back to his robots as if nothing had happened, and a boy dressed in all black made his way across the room. He was roughly a year and a half older than Near, and had jaw-length, blond, almost orangeish hair, blue eyes. He was about five, half the age of Beyond, but he looked up to the older boy and followed him around whenever he could, and yet he wasn't at all annoying. No, the boy was actually a good companion, even though he was so much younger.

"Hey Mello," B grinned.

"Hey B!" Mello said, almost happily. "I heard that  _Near_ ratted you out agai-..." His words of disgust faded as he glanced at the hand Beyond had behind his back. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

Beyond grinned even wider, showing Mello the knife, careful to keep it hidden from Near. He didn't mind telling Mello; he would never tell anyone, and he seemed to be as fascinated by the blade as B was.

Mello's eyes widened with curiosity, and the young boy extended his arm in question, reaching for the knife. In response, Beyond smirked & handed Mello the weapon.

"Careful; it's sharp," he sneered, voice still hushed.

"Where did you get it?" the blond whispered.

"The kitchen, where else would this damn place have knives?" B responded, as if it was obvious. The blond boy stared in awe, admiring the reflection of light on the sharp blade.

"Whattayou gonna do with it?"

"I don't know. Nothing yet, but I'm coming up with a plan."

"Can I come?" asked the blond immediately, eager to come on whatever adventure this would turn into.

"Maybe," said Beyond, not sure if it was a good idea for the five year old to come on this 'adventure' or not.

Mello was about to press, but Beyond interrupted before he could say anything. As Near got up and left the room, presumably to bother Roger for more Legos, B pulled a small box, about only an inch by inch in size, from out from under his pillow. Flipping open the lid, he pulled out a small stick with a red tip. "Want to see something cool?"

Mello nodded, eyes wide once again. Beyond struck the match against the top of the box and held it out in front of him, eyes glowing like the fire that had appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. Mello gasped, but didn't reach for the match. Within a few seconds, the faint light went out, and B stuffed the matchbox back under his pillow.

"Pretty, ain't it?" B sneered, glancing away from the wide-eyed blond for a second to check the door. Quieter now, he whispered; "I'm sneaking out tonight. I'll be back, but don't tell anyone. Got it?"

The little boy nodded in understanding, but didn't say a word. Quietly, B ushered him out the door. It was almost curfew, and after that no one would be out in the halls. It would be easy to sneak out.


End file.
